Love Takes Flight
by Nals
Summary: Karen Angelina Redline is on her first mission, but her plans go horribly wrong, from loving her best friend to the last person she could think of. Will she pick the pilot or the mastermind? Originally T.
1. Chapter 1

_I know, I know, the title is as cliché as heck, but whatever; it's a nice title~ xD It suits the story._

_Too bad this will be short; it's only an introductory chapter. xD *sorrys*_

_**WARNING: **__This story contains themes for older teens. If you should be under 16 or so, then please leave; this is not for regular teens. Involved are subtle and relatively explicit adult themes, violence, gore and more. I am unwilling to risk your mental health…and your parents'._

* * *

_**Love Takes Flight  
**__**Chapter One**_

_"Karen. Karen Redline."_

I aim the gun in my hands, cock its barrel, and shoot. The body falls with a satisfying thud, dead. With a cloth I wiped away the gore on my blade, skin and gun. I'd have to have my apparel cleaned though.

Just when I've found them, someone else gets Miles Axlerod and Professor Zündapp. My given mission: find and arrest. _My _mission: find…and _kill_.

* * *

"Karen Angelina Redline," my instructor called, and I dashed away from my friends, waving as I went to my flight instructor. This was the last test of the day, thank goodness.

My name is, as you may have heard, Karen Angelina Redline. Yes, I have the last name of my father, Rod "Torque" Redline. I've followed his footsteps in spying for years, and now that I'm nearly done with my time in the academy at CHROME, I'm betting he's proud I'm almost done.

Sometimes he helps me out at the academy, and most of the time he's out on missions. But nonetheless he sees to my training and helps me out.

In the academy he's sort of worshipped, idolized, and mooned-over. Worshipped by the teachers, idolized by aspiring students and mooned over by other women, teacher or student. Some keep asking me to ask my dad for tips and tricks, but even Father doesn't allow his secrets to be told. Except if I need to know or when he's teaching.

So today, we get our final assessment. We do special missions: aerial and land, each one having the same skills to test. The catch: no one tells you anything except for the test instructions, and you can't see the other students once you're done.

I'm now on my last test(sorry you missed the last one!): aerial. I love flying.

So, I'm to shoot 20 targets out of the sky in free fall, then land in a field. Sounds easy, right?

Wrong. Because I'll be starting atop the large camps and airbase that spans at least ten, fifteen acre. The next field is miles away.

As our flight instructor tells me to suit up, I do so, nervousness crawling in my belly. Then I remember what my dad said: _Confidence and courage can make you stronger. Panic and you're dead before you can even aim._

When the instructor screams 'go' I jump, and adrenaline rushes in my veins as I free-fall. And then, I see the targets.

My gun is loaded and ready, spare magazines in my belt. I assume my position, and fire quickly. I miss in my first shot, but get it in the second. I get a few in my first shot. Not bad, but not so good, either.

As the last target breaks, I hook the gun in my belt, and pull the ripcord, but the chute doesn't billow out.

I panic, but swallow it. I turn in my pack to my front. There's the problem: someone has reassembled the straps. My hands fly in my growing panic as I reattach the straps in its correct positions, but precious seconds are ticking away. As I am satisfied by their positions I slip it over my back again, snap the clutches together, and pull the ripcord. Relief floods through me as I maneuver through the air to a nearby field.

As I land I lie on the soft grass, exhausted and very much relieved, until my instructor arrives.

"Great job, Miss Redline," she starts, and I scramble up to see my score.

I rejoice. "Ninety-three?" I scream.

She grins. "Congratulations."

My dad appears from behind and I hug him tightly as he calls out his congrats to me.

* * *

"Agent Kate Angelina Redline," the emcee calls, and I stand to take my diploma. I grin as I shake the head of HQ's hand, and I wave subtly to my father and baby sister.

As the event closes, we toss our caps in the air, rejoicing. We are officially secret agents.


	2. Chapter 2

_This is merely filler, I think. I didn't exactly know what to put in here. xD_

* * *

_**Chapter Two**_

I work at HQ while I wait for my first assignment. My father has gone on an undercover mission.

_"Karen?"_

_"Yes, Father?" I dash at my father's call._

_"HQ has called me to another mission."_

_My shoulders slump. "So soon?"_

_"Sorry honey," he says, kissing my hair. "But I'll be back. I promise I'll call and remember you and Kaitlyn." I can only nod as he pulls me close, then moves away to leave._

That was our last exchange. I haven't seen him since. And it's been nearly nine months. He's called, but his last call was over three months ago. He's missed Kaitlyn, my little sister, on her twelfth birthday. He's missed my 27th. Right now, I'm holding him to his usual word: He'll be back.

In my free time—which is probably a lot—I wander around, usually around the hangars, checking out the beautiful planes there. I was never really mechanical around motors or engines; I was more on the guns and gadgets. But nonetheless I liked checking out the planes there. Sometimes, my girlfriends would go with me when they were free, and I know they are only there to check out the pilots that hung around the hangar(no pun intended, please). I humor them because I like to, because they keep me on my toes too, I guess.

There's this one other guy though. He's kind of shy and doesn't talk much, except when he's with his friends. Well, some of the men and women haven't outgrown being typical teens, and sometimes have fun by matching us up with other friends. In my case-or rather, in me and my girl friends' case-I'm matched up with that guy. And I don't even know him!

But he's cute, I guess, with his yellow visors and long, jet black hair that falls just over his eyes like external eyelashes. He's tall and lithely built, and I figure he's got strength under his gray and black uniform.

All I know about this guy is he flies the jet with the same colors as his uniform, its tail bearing the code A113, and well, that he's cute, maybe. And yes, maybe I've got a little crush on him, so what? he probably won't even notice me, whatever.

One day though, I bump into him when I'm called to the hangar.

"Oh, crap, I'm so sorry," I say, as I crash into him.

That's what my mom always told me: no running. Well, thanks Mom.

"No worries," he says in this beautiful Brit accent, smiling slightly. I think I'm blushing, but I have no idea if I really am. "How about we get together sometime, you know, have a coffee or something?"

I grin. "Sure," I say. "Where and when?"

"Later, when you're done doing stuff," he says. "I'm free for the while."

"'Kay," I reply. "Meet you at the café?"

There's kind of a bar deeper in HQ. Anyone who's anyone can grab a drink or whatever there; it's kind of our rest house whatchamacallit there.

He gives a thumbs up, and I dash away to help that someone who needed me. I can't give any details, really, because I am too excited to meet that guy, and I end up not focusing on the task at hand. When I'm released, I head instantly for the bar. He's waiting in the near-dark-it's kind of a bar, I told you-in a booth where neither his friends or mine will see easily.

Siddeley tells me he's submissive; no such thing. He's fun to be with and tells a lot of stories. I still think he's shy and all that, but under all that is a fun-loving guy who likes spying and his missions.

Usually, I don't socialize with other agents anymore, and my friends are either on missions or helping out in other parts of HQ, but when I meet Siddeley, I realize how much I've lacked such socialization.

* * *

Months pass. Most of my friends will have had an assignment already, finished or ongoing, solo or team. My time is either focused on work or on spending time with my friends, or on whoever is free. These days, I find myself having more and more free time from work and such, and I hang, as usual at the hangar(still no pun intended). Which is both odd and fine at the same time. Fine because I already told you I love the wind that gets in there and the jets that rest there. Odd because I find myself having fun with Siddeley.

One of my friends asks me: what's it like to have Siddeley with me? As a friend, he's nice, is my reply. But they shoot back with this: do you like him, as in like _like_ him?

That time, I don't answer. Because I haven't really thought about Siddeley as more than a friend. He's there when I'm alone or with friends. He helps me with some pies of work. I try helping him with his jet engine. But that's all. No kissing or whatever. I don't believe I feel that, and I know he doesn't, either.

One day, I am called to the head office. Out of friendship (I think) Siddeley accompanies me there. An attendant or secretary receives me, and sends me in to the office without Siddeley though. I sit, right in front of the desk of the head of CHROME's HQ. He's standing at the window, arms folded over his chest. He turns to me.

"Miss Redline," he starts, "we have received news about your father."

I'm expectant then. Until I realize moments later the nothing ever comes by the head of HQ unless there's something wrong.

He sites, and I look at him. "He was reported to have been killed in action."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Pancake: **__Not necessarily emo, but I loved Shadoru's gijinka version so much I had to do this. xDDD Yes, so sad for Rod. I figured he was in his late forties or so tho, still looking young. xD_

_**Mere: **__Well, I've been saying 'whatchamacallit' for years now; may as well incorporate it into my stories. :3 It's kind of a joke word I like saying, joke word being a word that can probably make something serious to something lighter…. Yes, I think that's it. xD_

_Erm…I do NOT own the Samsung Galaxy SII, its future model designs or anything of Samsung. :) Don't flame if I didn't choose the iPhone._

* * *

_**Chapter Three**_

The world sways beneath me. _Dead?_

"Wh have apprehended the killers already, although we are not sure as to who really did it."

I shook with rage and sorrow. "When did he die?"

"We predict it was a few months ago," he says. "We found his body somewhere. He had signs of the combustion of his engine, just as in the World Grand Prix. But this time, he had died of the explosion, with serious burns."

"Who killed him?" I asked, shaking a little as I fought down the urge to cry in front of my boss. "The various suspects," I clarified, but I knew I didn't have to.

He lined up a few pictures for me to see. "These men have—"

An alarm suddenly sounded, and I stood, alert. The secretary burst in with Siddeley.

"Sir, Axlerod and his men…they've escaped!"

"What? How?"

"We don't know, sir!"

"Then tell them to investigate!" he snapped, and she darted away.

The big boss slouched in his chair. "Oh, what will I do?" he keeps murmuring, rubbing his temples with his elbows on his table.

"Let me capture them," I plead with the boss. "So I can avenge my father's death."

He looks at me and sees the expression in my face. He nods.

"When I have organized all else, my dear. Besides, you still have to explain it to your sister."

My eyes widen. My sister.

Reality hits me then, and suddenly, I burst to tears. My father, gone before I even knew it. My sister will be devastated. I've already lost my mother to illness; not my dad, too. Someone wraps their arms around me, and I mildly realize it's Siddeley.

"Come on; let's get you something do drink," he murmurs, and he leads me out to the café. I receive a glass of water and blow my nose on tissue. He just sits with me as I cry my heart out.

I quiet down soon enough, and all I can do is hug Siddeley. I really feel alone like a little girl right now, and I pretty much don't care if he's just a friend; all I want is for someone to hold me, to remind me I'm not alone. And he's my closest bet. I'm thinking he understands, because he holds me close, too, rubbing my arm gently. ANd when my throat has stopped throbbing, I straighten.

"Thanks," I tell my friend, smiling a little.

"It's alright," he replies, squeezing my hand.

I nod, then stand. "Can..can you be there when I tell Kaitlyn?" I blurt. I don't really want to be alone when I tell my baby sister.

"If you want me to." He stands to side by me.

I take his hand, smile gratefully, then walk to the garages.

* * *

"Kaitlyn?" I call as I enter the Redline home.

"Karen!" someone squeaks, and my waist is attacked by my little sister.

I stroke her beautiful, dark strawberry blonde hair. "Kaitlyn, I have to talk to you," I say, and as she releases me I lead them both to the living room couch. She wonders who the man is with me, but I tell her that's not the point.

I wonder for a second how I'm supposed to break it to my little sister. She loves our dad so much it kills, and it will break her twelve-year-old heart now if she knew he was dead. But she has to know, and she has a right to, because he's her father, too. But I've read telling people subtly about this kind of thing is worse than telling them head-on, so I get to the point. I square my shoulders and swallow the threatening lump in my throat.

"Kaitlyn," I start, "It's about Dad. He's…he's dead."

She looks at me in disbelief. "Seriously?" I can only nod. She's in heavy denial. "No. Dad…Dad isn't dead. He can't be."

"Kate," I say softly, but tears are springing from her eyes it hits me hard and I have to stop, but she intend cuts me off so I can't really explain.

"Karen, he's the greatest spy at CHROME!" she calls out. "He can't be dead!"

"Kate, why do you think he hasn't called?" I ask, forcing her to swallow this. "Why do you think he couldn't come on our birthdays? Why he couldn't spend Christmas or New Year here? He always does, remember, even when he has missions to think about?"

"He can't be, Karen!" she shrieks at me so loud I wince. "Rod 'Torque' Redline is the best spy in the world! He's our father! He has us to think about! Do you think he would be stupid enough to get caught?"

"Maybe not, Kaitlyn, but it's a risk he's willing to take!" I shout at her, standing now as she sits on the plush couch, crying. "It's a risk every spy has to take! And we can't do anything about it because that's what he chose!" Anger at my father for being stupid, anger at my sister for being so unconvinced, and grief for my father's death are a bad mix of emotions in my head and belly now all I do is shiver as I hold back a line of profanities I want to hurl at my baby sister and to my father in the heavens. But I don't. I'm mature enough for that.

"Karen?" she squeaks a little, and as I open my eyes I see her staring up at me with fear in her eyes. Suddenly, Siddeley is right there, his hands on me. His face is worried, too.

"Breathe, Karen," he says. "Breathe; you're shaking."

I focus on taking deep breaths as I look away from both of them, and when I've managed the choking feeling in my throat I nod, and he drops his arms. Kaitlyn just hugs me as she sits there, and I hold her close as we cry for our beloved father.

"I'm so sorry I shouted at you, sis," I whisper as we quiet down.

"S'okay," she replies, and she goes off for a roll of tissue for the both of us to blow our noses and wipe the tears that has dried on our cheeks.

I then remember I have a picture of us in my wallet, and I pull it out so we can see Dad for the last time. This was taken two Christmases ago, no more than a month before he went on his last mission.

"Good-bye, Daddy," she whispers, caressing the face in the photo paper. "We love you."

"We'll miss you," I say, and Kaitlyn holds me close. There's a moment of prayer, then we freshen up.

"So, what do we do now?" Kaitlyn asks.

"I can't leave you here alone, surely," I say. "Not anymore."

"What? But I can-"

"you're only twelve, Kaitlyn," I snap. "You're still a minor, not matter what happens." Her shoulders slump.

"What about you?" she asks.

"I can't; I've got an assignment to do."

This piques her interest. "What?"

"Not really," not yet, but the big boss has promised me one."

She nods. "What about me?"

"Maybe I can find a relative or neighbor to help you," I say, and open up the Internet in my modified phone. Good; most of my relatives are online.

In my head I make a list of all the single people in my family. I send them messages, each one the same, and I give them about a day or so to answer.

"Karen?" Kaitlyn squeaks.

"Yes?"

"Who's that?" I glance at her. She's hiding behind her hair shyly, and I can see her blushing. As I follow her gas, she's looking up at Siddeley.

"Kaitlyn, this is Siddeley, a friend of mine," I say. "Siddeley, my baby sister, Kaitlyn."

"Hi," he says, smiling.

Kaitlyn looks up at me. "Why is he cute?" she squeaks softly. I glance at Siddeley again, then back to my baby sister.

I blink as I remember that little feeling in my lower back and in my belly. "Is he?"

She nods jerkily. I blink again. These days I hadn't really noticed; I think I was more engrossed on his stories than what he looked like. But to hide the tingles in my skin I smirk at her, almost laughingly.

"You're too young," I chide softly.

"But what about you?" she shoots back, but her tone isn't mad. It's calm, but almost accusing.

"Can we not talk about it?" I almost hiss, and she grins, looking away.

It's that moment when I realize how my view on Siddeley has changed, and when I realize suddenly how handsome Siddeley is. I couldn't believe my eyes when my sister, my _younger_ sister at that, pointed it out. Mildly, I'm shocked.

I glance at the time in my modified phone. It's nearly six-thirty in the evening.

"Siddeley, how'd you like to stay for dinner?" I invite my friend. I glance at my sister. "Do we even have dinner?" I grin uncertainly, and she returns it.

She blinks in thought. "I don't know; let me check." She then skips away to check the fridge.

"Who cooks?" Siddeley asks.

"She does," I say, "but I help."

I bet you've been wondering about my modified phone, yes? Why I call it 'modified'? And my other 'usual' gadgets on hand? Well, my phone is a beautiful (and I have to admit, _sexy_) black Samsung Galaxy SII of the latest model, modified with several other functions such as a scanner of various things, a key pick, and a few poison darts, to name a few, aside from having apps like Angry Birds or Plants Vs. Zombies(damn games being so freaking fun to play) and Internet access. I had it done as a birthday present. I have a multifunction watch, which also features scanning and a few small defensive weapons. I recently had it equipped with a hologram projector, which is awesome for redirecting attention. My contacts are only for scanning, though, and digital passcode unlocking, and pretty much anything digital is involved, like texting. It's more on thought waves than voice-activation or remote control, which is awesome. I don't know the mechanics of it though, and I think it will give me a headache. Guns and other weapons are specially chosen, and are as you can say 'external' gadgets.

"We don't have dinner, sis," she calls out from the kitchen.

I give myself a face palm. "Let's go out then," I say, and stand.

"Procedure Lockdown 01?" she asks.

"Procedure Lockdown 01," I agree, and she dashes away to shut everything: doors, sockets, water, electricals, etc. Siddeley wonders what it is.

"My father used to believe in tight security in the home even when we go you," I say as we go off to help my sister with the switches she can't reach or shut down.

"So, where do we go?" she asks giddily as I lock the front door, pocketing the keys.

"No idea; give me a suggestion," I tell her and she picks out a nice diner with mixed cuisines around the world: American, Italian, Spanish, Filipino, and more!

We're at the restaurant for a few hours, telling old and new stories alike. Despite Kaitlyn's shyness for the opposite sex she and Siddeley get along. It's about eight in the evening when we leave. It's too late to drive Siddeley back to HQ, so we invite him to stay with us. A big argument happens, but even he can't deny it's too late; it's nearly a two-hour drive from the house to HQ. And I have to be early tomorrow in time for clocking in.

Unfortunately, as part of having a secluded home, we don't have a guest room. Well, at least, not since Kaitlyn grew old and had to stay in what had been planned as a guest room. We decide not to touch the master's bedroom too much, or even have Siddeley stay in there, only because Kaitlyn and I believe our dad and mum are there like before. And the next biggest bed is mine. So, I have to share.

Siddeley borrows some things for the night. I saw no reason not to let Dad's things go to waste, but Kaitlyn literally screamed dissent. But what's the use? Dad's gone anyway and Siddeley seriously needs something to sleep in. I'm not being cruel or anything, I'm just being rational. I can't let my mourning cloud my decisions because I'm the head of the home now.

That night, I pray silently to my dad, probably talking to him for the last time. I tell him everything I needed to tell him, and instead of blaming him for dying I just ask him for the guidance I need in these hard times. When Siddeley holds me close is when I realize I'm sobbing my heart out, and I bury my face in his chest as I shake, trying to be as quiet as possible so my sister and the neighbors can sleep. Before I know it, I'm unconscious, and I dream about my dad and Kaitlyn and me playing together in the fields with my mum.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter Four**_

"Agent Karen, your newest assignment," a man says, briefing the graduate, who has been waiting nearly a year for her first assignment.

I, Agent Karen Angelina Redline, have just received my first mission: to track down Miles Axlerod, Professor Zündapp and their henchmen, and to bring them back, arrested. I am requested to pick one partner to come with. No doubt I go with Siddeley. We then head to the hangar to his jet.

"So, where do we head first?" Siddeley asks. "We don't even know where they've gone!"

"Not really," I say, holding up a tracking gadget. "Each prisoner is knocked unconscious before inserting some sort of homing beacon. In the jail, there's nothing sharp enough for yourself to get cut there, so trying to get at it is not an option. That's why we don't give out knives during breakfast, lunch or dinner.

"Typically, the devices inserted are for keeping track of the prisoner's health. But it can also turn into a homing beacon when someone leaves the compound.

"Most prisoners don't know about it, but some do. Rumors spread, and a case of someone trying to prove them happened. We had to…dispatch him after that.

"Right now, I'm hoping Axlerod and the others don't know he's got one in his arm."

As we board the jet, I give him the coordinates of our next destination, then joins me for lunch, setting his jet on autopilot.

"So, what's been your biggest 'heist' so far?" I ask.

"That time in the World Grand Prix," he says.

"I heard you made friends after that."

"Yeah. I've met Agent Mater's friends, as well as his friend's friends."

"Really?"

"Yup."

"Anyone that stood out?" I was one for the craziness. That's why I took up hardcore spying.

He looks up in thought. "There's this girl, though," he says. "But Francesco Bernoulli has her, so that's out of the question." He spears a bit of beef and pops it into his mouth. "There's her cousin, too." He swallows. "She's got this thing, you know, for mechanics."

I smirk, rolling my eyes. I've never heard of a girl doing such. "Really?"

"Yeah," he insists. "I'm not kidding. This jet broke down and she was the only one available to fix it long enough for me to get back to HQ."

My eyes bulge. "Really?"

He nods. "But she's more into cars than planes, so that's quite understandable." He takes a sip of his drink.

"Is she pretty?" I ask, jealousy crawling in my belly.

"Sure," he says, staring into space. "But she's got her heart set on someone else, I believe."

"Really?"

He shrugs this time.

The conversations ends as lunch does, and I go to explore the rest of the jet. I find a small garage. In it is a sleek black car. Further examination reveals a two-door, two-seater arrangement in the cabin, yet there are two smaller seats in the back. On its rear is a black disc outlined with silver, with the letters 'GT' on it in silver, too. I wonder for a moment whose this is, but then I think it's Siddeley's, and return to the bridge.

"Are we there yet?" I ask him.

"Nearly," he replies, glancing at the GPS, then flicking some switches.

I sit in the co-pilot's seat, watching him intently. He kind of looks like my dad when he used to drive with me in the passenger's seat.

"Why did you decide to become a pilot?" I blurt.

He glances at me before he speaks. "I don't really know," he says. "I just liked flying, you know?"

I grin. "But you're still an agent, right?"

He nods. "That's right. I majored in piloting and got my pilot's license as I graduated, although I have some knowledge on being a spy, too."

It's my turn to nod.

"So, why me?" he asks. "Why pick me for this mission?"

I shrug, blushing a little. I have to admit I like being with Siddeley, maybe even too much for being friends. "You were free, I guess."

He chuckles slightly, then flicks more switches as he announces our descent into the radio. He lands the jet in an airport, hiding it in a large hangar. As we get off, he presents and ID to the staff, and they nod. Siddeley then turns to open the door that leads to the 'garage' in the back, revealing the black car I saw earlier today.

"I miss this car," he says, getting in and driving it out onto the asphalt, closing the cargo bay door, the name in which I remember late. He beckons me to get in, and we drive out of the runways and the airport itself.

"Where are we?" I ask bluntly. I'm no geographer, that's for sure.

"We're in Canada," he replies, and he instructs me to plug in the tracker to his GPS. There we can see the road to our target.

I'm sort of astounded. Britain to Canada in only a few hours? I'm impressed. But it's kind of like afternoon here, only because we headed west, so the time is probably around three in the afternoon.

The target is about thirty minutes from the airport. We're quiet as he drives. I don't even dare imagine how close he is to me, how I can tell him to stop at an alley for a moment so we can do more than talk….

_No_. My dad would curse me, and my baby sister needs me. And besides, he probably likes that girl he talked about earlier today better than me. I hang on to that, even if I remember he said she liked someone else.

He then stops a car at a near-empty alley. "We're here."

I glance out the windshield and my eyes widen in disbelief as I see the sign. I glance at the GPS, then back. "Are you sure?"

"It says so right there." He points to the GPS screen.

I still don't believe it, because we have stopped at a strip club.

* * *

_A/N: I wanted this thing to be a little after the second WGP, I think. ._. Odd timeline, don't you think? xD_


	5. Chapter 5

_May as well make the most of the rating. *evil grin* This is where things get going; I advise all young viewers to leave immediately! This is an important chapter in this story's life, so please~_

_Oh, I'd like to note there's an alternate version of this that I kicked out of commission; I think I'll put it up as an external chap for LTF. :)_

* * *

_**Chapter Five**_

"How're you going to pull it off?" he asks, referring to the part where I'm supposed to look like the crowd.

I fumbled with my clothes. I'm in a button-up, jacket, straight jeans and docksides, all in black. Underneath are my black lace undergarments. I never really planned on doing heels these days, what with them hurting my back and my feet.

I just shrug out of my jacket and roll my sleeves. I'm going to a strip club, for crying out loud, so the more skin the better. But I can't shed my pants, that's for sure.

I turn awkwardly to my partner. "What's under your jacket?" I ask.

"Erm…button-up? White?"

I scrutinize his gray pants with a thick black strip down the sides. "Just the jacket," I say curtly. "Oh, and don't forget the glasses and the headset."

After things are settled, I glance at the clock. Shit, it's only about four in the evening; that club could well be closed up until six or so in the evening.

"What do we do until then?" I say. "I mean, the club's going to be closed, you know, until later tonight."

"We sit here," he says, "like sitting ducks."

I roll my eyes but chuckle slightly. I bring out my phone so I can play games and surf the internet. He rests, leaning back and closing his eyes. Soon enough I drift off to sleep, too. My phone vibrates hard enough for me to wake, and I glance at the alarm.

"Siddeley, it's nearly eight," I say. He nods, and straightens. I pocket my SII. With a deep breath we enter the club on foot, and I mentally prepare myself for things I haven't seen before.

I'm uncomfortable as women in just their underwear approach us, flirting with Siddeley. Others wolf-whistle at me, and I just shuffle away, leaving them laughing, drunk. Siddeley then turns around to leave me, but I grip his wrist to stay with me. The music is more sexy than pounding in my ears, and I del myself getting turned on as I watch Siddeley unbutton the first three fasteners on his shirt, tugging it open a little. All around are shining silver poles, each one on a table, each one occupied by a girl, each table more or less full of men and other women.

"So, how do we find them?" Siddeley asks.

Either he's testing me or he doesn't know. I activate my special scanner contacts, and get detailed data from the car's GPS. I glance around the club, and find a secluded door. The target has been sighted.

"There," I murmur, pointing to the door. "How do we get in? It's for authorized personnel."

He grinned. "Let me," he whispered so seductively in my ear it's enough to make my head reel. He moves forward, and I can see he's found a target of his own.

"Hey, honey," he murmurs, sliding his arms around a busty woman. My eyes bulged slightly as a reflex. "Wanna hang with me later?"

The girl smiled, her arms around his neck and pressing her hips against his. "Sure."

He pressed his lips to hers, swaying softly to the music, and sheer jealousy coursed through me. But for the good of the mission I fought to keep my frustration down. But he looked like he was enjoying it!

He moaned softly before letting his head from hers. "Do me a favor first," he whispered.

"Anything," she replied, he lips lingering on his.

"I have to see a Mr. Zündapp," he replies, turning them around so he can back up against the wall. "I've a message for him, but I don't know where he is." He pressed his lips to hers again, pulling her closer. "Do you think you could lead me to them?"

"Sure, baby," she replied, and led him away.

To ensure she knows he's following his hand is constantly on her lower back. He glanced at me over his shoulder, and made a swinging motion with his fist, pointing to her head.

I nodded. Nice plan. I stuck to the shadows until he reached the door. The wooden panel swung open, and I instantly injected her with a sedative that came in my multifunction watch. She fell to the floor, stone cold, and we dragged her out of the way. We entered the lit hall, and hid beside the wide archway that was along the wall opposite the door.

"Are our culprits there?" Siddeley whispered.

I peered past the doorway, but then I figured my head would be exposed, and withdrew quickly. But I had an idea. It's crazy, but I had an idea.

"Sorry," I murmured to my partner, and pulled off my button-up.

"What-" he started as I stripped my pants and handed the the clothing to him. With the holograph in my watch I simulated garters and stockings, as well as stripy heels. I never really liked fishnets. I tucked the watch into my bra.

"I'll need those back," I snarled softly as I undid my jet back hair halfway, tying the upper half and fluffing out the rest of it.

"What are you doing?" he hissed.

"Just was you did," I say, and press my lips to his cheek lightly. "Flirt."

I then enter the room with a serious face and confident strides. They stare at me as I head for a standing man in green.

I fight to swallow my disgust as my hands press to his chest. "Hi," I murmur, smiling innocently at the older man.

"What are you doing here?" a man asks, and I turn to see Professor Zündapp glaring at me.

"At least I was thoughtful enough to come here," I retort.

"why don't you bring your friends in?"

"I'm new here," I say evasively. "I don't like mixing with those souls who just pick someone off the street." My hands massage the shoulders of the man I've chosen, and gaze into his bright blue eyes. "I prefer…classier men," I whisper.

I've viewed and reviewed the pictures of the culprits I'm to capture, and this man is no stranger to me. The jet black hair, the stand-out chin, that rugged neck, those striking blue eyes. There's no doubting it's Miles Axlerod himself.

"And do you think I'm higher than them?" he murmurs.

I force my eyes to smolder and my fingers to tangle in his hair. "Yeah."

he then presses his lips to mine, and it takes all my willpower to not push him away.

I'm biased as his arms slide around my bare waist and as my eyes slide shut. I didn't expect my first kiss to be this way, or to be with this man: a criminal. So I'm tingling with pleasure and hissing inwardly in frustration.

"Miles," Zündapp hisses, "this isn't the time for this."

"But off, Zündapp," Axlerod growls, lifting his head and I just press my face to his neck, dazed.

"Professor Z is right, Sir Axlerod," Grem says from the other end of the room. "We have spies on our tails as we speak."

Miles Axlerod sighs, and I gaze into his vivid blue eyes. "Take me with you," I plead softly.

He's thinking twice. I can see it. He glances towards his 'friends', who shake their heads, then to me.

I blink. "Aren't you in charge of your own life?" I ask. "I mean, you're the leader of your own…group. Can't you be the leader of your life, too?"

His gaze hardens, and he smiles softly. "You're right," he says, and leads me to the couch and pulls me close to his side, his arm around me. I snuggle against him because it's freakishly cold.

As I play with the ring on my finger, one I got for myself just for fun, I listen to their conversation. Of course, they're planning on taking back their oil derricks, but their words are blunt and undefiled. I figure it's me, so I fake sleeping, trying to keep my breathing even and moan a little every once in a while. There, more details are comfortably given out.

They're leaving after this discussion to a more secluded place to plan. but they're leaving me behind as a security precaution.

Oh, this turn of events should be dazzling.

Axlerod gently shakes me awake, and I raise my head exhaustedly. The rest of them leave. Axlerod helps me stand, and faces me.

"My dear, I hate to break it to you, but…you can't come with me."

My eyes widen in alarm. "Why not?"

"We just can't."

"But I want to go with you!" I say indignantly.

He's taken aback. "Aren't you begin taken care of here?"

I shake my head sadly, bowing it as I start sniffling. "My parents have gone. My sister died in a car crash. I have no home, no family. I can't pay the tuition of my school." My body shakes in the cold and with the sobs. "I have nothing left," I whisper, almost hoarsely.

I can tell he's moved, because he hugs me tight in warm arms that feel so impossibly good, the love I feel turns to sobs as I remember my father. he murmurs soft words as I cry for me, my dad, my mom, my baby sister. Things are moving so fast I hardly have the time and thought to mourn.

Slowly I shut up, and he hands me a handkerchief. I take it gratefully. At least I didn't have eyeliner on.

"You poor thing," he says as he embraces me again. "Come then," he invites, "and I'll take care of you."

I smiled into his eyes, and he smiles back before kissing my forehead.

"Get your things," he says. "I'll meet you back here in, say, twenty minutes?"

"Twenty minutes," I agree, and stretch up on my toes to press my lips lightly to his before turning away to meet Siddeley.

"What's the plan?" he says when we get to the car.

"You follow us, we slowly decrease their numbers," I snarl as I suit up.

"How?"

I slip my multifunction watch onto my wrist just as the stockings disappear. "I pick them off one by one." With that I leave for the club, but his hand grips my wrist.

He stares fiercely into my eyes before he speaks. "I don't want you to do this."

I roll my eyes. "I'll be fine."

But he wouldn't let go. "Siddeley, I'm a spy. We do these kinds of things."

"Maybe," he says, "but not this." he pulls me in so his hand can cup my face and he presses his lips to mine.

I'm startled by this. In the months we've been together he's made no indication he likes me more than a friend. Perhaps now I know.

I'm disappointed as he pulls away. My head is dazed, my senses fogged.

"siddeley," I whisper, more in pleasure than as a call.

"Be careful," he says, and I can feel his warm breath on my face. "Don't get knocked up."

"I won't," I murmur, glancing into his dark eyes.

He glances back before hugging me tight. My arms come around his waist and my face presses to his jacket. Under the scent of the AC of the car I can make out the cologne he wears to HQ. he then pulls away, leaving me feeling cold and alone as the nightly breeze chills my skin lightly. I take a deep breath before re-entering the club.

"Ready?" Axlerod says.

I nod. "Ready." I try feeling euphoric. I didn't really have to; I'm excited to get going with the mission.

Maybe 'excited' is wrong in a sense, because I wanted revenge, remember? But as his fingers lace through mine I feel something other than excitement stirring in my chest.

And I don't think it's disgust or revenge.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Pancake**__, I thought it would be pretty obvious already by the disc with 'GT' on it. xD At any rate, it's a Ford Mustang GT. Originally, I wanted Karen to be with Siddeley, so at any rate, I'm still working on how the climax goes or who she goes with. So I'm pretty much as eager as you to see the whole story through._

* * *

_**Chapter Six**_

Zündapp and the others aren't happy Miles brought me along for the ride. In the luxury yacht, I stay in my own room. As I know where we're headed I tell Siddeley to go ahead to the Ninoy Aquino International Airport between Parañaque and Pasay in Manila, and wait for us there. I try getting up close and personal to Grem and Acer, two of Miles' henchmen. They both kind of pour their hearts out, and I can't help feeling sorry for them, because both were outcasts, and Zündapp and Miles had promised salvation and glory.

"I'm sure you'll find your peace someday," I tell them.

Grem sighs. "I hope so."

I can't seem to crack Zündapp's defenses. He's as stony as possible, so I think I'll leave him for a night mission later on.

Miles is very willing to become my friend. I suspect it's the loneliness he's seen for five months. Have I mentioned we're on a first-name basis? Whenever they don't have a meeting or he iesn't otherwise occupied, he asks me questions about myself. I can't help asking him questions, too, as he is so willing to share.

My name is Karen Angelina Solen. My family is dead. I can't support myself. College is officially out of the question. I worked at the club because I thought I could pull it off. I've been alone for three months. He's the first real friend I had ever since I dropped out. I have not been knocked up. I am seriously not sexy or anywhere along that line; I'm more outgoing and fun-loving than such.

So, what's the plan, you may ask? I try kissing up to the four of them, except maybe Professor Z because he's a little harder to convince, and then go in for the kill. Easy enough, eh? Not necessarily. There are some things I'm risking here, like the love I'm reserving for what my friends call 'The One', which, as any girl should probably know, is 'the one' you'll be with for the rest of your life. Every one of my friends have dreamed about that, but me? Not necessarily, either. Also, there's the risk of exposing myself. I mean, I'd get killed if that happened. At any rate, I try acting as convincing as possible. Who, you may ask, am I trying for first?

Oh, that would be Miles Axlerod himself. I know it's crazy, but sometimes going through to the core of anything is better than trimming the outer shell first.

What to do? Beg him for stories, what are his interests, and al that crap. Also, I have to tell him about myself too, but I don't want to deviate far from my real interests, else if something slips, I'll be exposed.

And to top it all off, I have to ask a simple but very vexing question. Three days into the voyage, when I know more than is required about him and vice versa, I invite Miles to talk with me to the stern of the ship, and we talk, leaning on the rails. That's when I ask him.

"Miles," I say, and he looks at me with bright blue eyes, "…do you like me?"

His smiled fades, and he looks out to the waves below. His raised brows turn to a frown, and any girl can tell he hasn't really thought about it. Either that, or he's trying to evade that one question alone.

My hand moves to his, and he looks up at me, worry in his eyes. "It doesn't have to be now," I say, smiling slightly. "I can wait."

He turns to face me fully though, stemming a little away from the railing to take my hands in his. "Karen," he starts, "I don't know how to put it but…I don't like you."

That alone gives me a real blow to the chest, and I wince as a reflex. That hurts. All these days I've been working on kissing up to the criminal mastermind, risking my feelings, and he doesn't like me?

But he only grips my hands tighter, shifting his weight uncomfortably, his gaze flickering downward before returning to mine.

"I love you, Karen," he says, tone and eyes fierce, and suddenly all the words are tumbling out, passing into history. "You're sensitive to others. You listen well to me. Well, maybe not only me; I've heard things from Germ and Acer, too. You're smart and beautiful. You make me listen to you more than Zündapp can."

All I can do is stare at him, startled. I planned for it to be this way, but I didn't necessarily plan for it to be this way.

He drops his gaze, sighing. "I knew you wouldn't care," he murmurs.

Panic hits me then. "No, it's not that," I say, lacing my fingers through his now, and he looks up at me past his long, black lashes. "I was just startled, that's all."

"So you do like me back," he says, eyes and tone hopeful.

I shaky my head, stepping closer. I smile as I answer. "I _love_ you back," I corrected, and he smiles back, his gaze dropping shyly, lips curling over his teeth in a grin.

My hand moves to the side of his face. My smile grows as my thumb caresses his cheek. It's a few seconds before he moves in to kiss me.

It's not as relaxed as I did in the club that night, nor as ignorant. It's soft and sweet, and I'm tingling lightly.

His arms are around my waist. My hands are laid on his broad shoulders. I can feel his warm breath on my face. Our eyes are closed. I believe I'm blushing in ecstasy. Not exactly for once, but I succumb to feeling alone and let go of the rest of the world.

"Miles," someone calls from behind him, and we break away, his head looking over his shoulder. I do the same, leaning a little to the side so I can see Professor Zündapp there, arms folded over his chest.

"Zündapp," Miles replies coolly.

"May I speak with you?" Professor Z says, then glares at me. "Alone." His voice is icy as he turns away.

My hands slide sadly down as I sigh, head bowed. He crushes me against him, his lips in my chocolate copper hair. "I won't be long," he reassures me before he walks away.

Quietly, I follow a little way away, and press my ear to the door where Miles had disappeared.

"She could well be a spy, Miles!" Zündapp roars.

"'Could' is not the same as 'is'," Miles corrects.

"But what if she is?"

"She isn't!" Miles snarls aloud. "If she were, she would have told me!"

My mouth gapes. he trusts me too much for his own good.

"But what if she knows she can't tell you because it would compromise the mission?"

Zündapp reasons, and Miles is silent. "You can't love her, Miles, or trust her." There's a pause. "All she'll do is betray you."

I can then hear footsteps approach the door, and I pretend I'm wandering around quietly. I turn my head to see him frowning.

"Miles?" I call worriedly, and hurry to him. "Are you alright?"

His arms are around me then, his gaze still lowered. "I'll be fine. Professor Z just had a…problem." He looks at me, and smiles slightly. "He called me to let me know."

I smile up at him. "I'm sure you'll figure it out," I say, and peck his cheek.

He smiles, too. "Thanks," he murmurs.

Oddly enough, he leaves me alone. He doesn't tell me why. I then take the advantage of the time and find Grem. I glance into a window and find him alone. Good.

It's nice there aren't any security cams as far as my watch can scan, really. I make a hologram do my bidding so I can do my part, too.

The hologram, a masked man, enters with a blade. Quietly he crosses the room to the bed, and cuts Grem's throat open with a knife.

I imagine a large spider on the window and screech. The man runs out just as Acer and Miels rounds the corners, and the hologram jumps the rail. Acer, too late, tries grabbing the hologram's legs, and the men watch the splash and the man's head bobbing up and swimming away.

Meanwhile, I'm sitting, knees held close, shivering in 'fear'. Miles is then beside me, and murmurs soothing words in my ear as I let him hold me.

He leads me to his room, where we settle on his bed.

"Don't cry, Karen," he says softly. "It's going to be alright."

"It's not alright, Miles!" I shout angrily at him. "I watched that man waltz into Grem's room and watched him cut open Grem's throat! And I was frozen in place!" I buried my face in my hands. "I'm useless," I say.

"No you're not," he soothes, taking my wrists.

"Miles, I couldn't even do anything," I choke. "I just watched a friend of mine die!"

He pulls me to his chest as I cry. And I can't even fathom why I'm crying so hard.

"It's not your fault, Karen," he says softly. "It wasn't your fault."

"It was," I reply.

"You sounded the alarm," he pointed out, his hand rubbing my back. "That's good enough for me."

I stared up into his smiling blue eyes. I nod slowly, letting him know I'm convinced, and he kisses my hair.

That night, I lie awake in the dark in my open blouse and in one of his shorts, Miles' arm over my waist as he sleeps soundly behind me. (I can't use my holograph because it will wear the watch's battery out.)

He's kind of convinced there's some danger out there after Grem died, that someone's out there that's been instructed to pick us off one by one, and he kind of forced me to stay with him after that, and that includes sleeping with him in the most literal sense of the phrase.

I turn to face him, and his eyes are open in the dim. He smiles gently at me, and his fingers lightly trace the planes of my face. A corner of my mouth twirls up in a half-smile, and my own fingers ghost over his square jaw.

My multifunction wristwatch is right there on the bedside table. It's dark, and we are alone. I can easily either slice his neck open or poison him. But I don't. Why?

Because I love him. _Too._


	7. Chapter 7

_Your beloved Nalsyluffles loved your four reviews! ^-^ I was so awesome'd by __**Pancake**__'s review(Pancake3298; the first one I saw for Ch.5), then by Miss __**Shadoru**__'s(Shadoru Yagami Bernoulli) and __**Merestuffin**__'s(MereMcQueen314) next reviews. 8D_

_*story moment? xD I think._

_I do NOT own The Bellevue, Manila, or any of its rooms, suites or details. It is just a place of reference; I couldn't design my own hotel room. :/ Seriously, please don't flame. And yes, the venue is real. :) The event is NOT._

_And sorry for the late; I had to do this over. ^-^"_

* * *

_**Chapter Seven**_

I awake to movement behind me. I don't want to get up, and I moan into a pillow. I tear gentle chuckling, then a loving press of lips onto my skin.

"Good morning," quite an unfamiliar voice says, and I turn in his arms.

Within moments, I am looking into beautiful bright blue eyes, and Miles pulls me close. I'm kind of grateful for his warmth and for the warmth he's giving me. We lie there for a while under the covers until he says he wants to get some breakfast. He slips into a pair of pants and a shirt, and I am lent the same as he convinces me to have my own clothes washed.

Morning turns to afternoon. It's hotter than it was in Canada, and when I mean hot, I mean hot. But we are leaning along the railing of the ship's bow, enjoying the warmth, glasses of iced coffee* in hand, our sides touching.

We don't talk. Maybe that's because there's really nothing to discuss. I mean, it's been four whole days of sticking with each other since that night. What's to tell?

"Sir," some crewman says, "we're close."

"Good," Miles replies. "Prepare Acer and Zündapp; I'll be meeting them in a few minutes." The crewman nods respectfully, then Miles turns to me. "Why don't you find something to entertain yourself, Karen?"

I pick out a poker face with rather startled wide eyes. "That's a stupid way to tell a girl to run along," I say.

He chuckles and I smile as he kisses my hair. "Sorry," he apologizes.

"Naw, that's fine; I'll be fine," I reassure him, and after a moment lot lip-lock he heads away. I watch him round the corner before I return to his room to fetch my cellphone.

It's nice CHROME's gadgets are either locked in a passcode or fingerprint authentication, because I find odd fingerprints on my clean watch and phone screen.

With my multifunction watch I scan the room. My contacts can identify or 'see' the infrared rays, which is more or less invisible to the naked eye. The watch confirms no cameras or human interference. Good.

"Computer, identify fingerprints on watch and phone."

A few moments of scanning reveals Professor Zündapp has tried to configure my watch and phone. I bristle a little, then remember I can't really blame him. Because I'm some intruder here and he can't really tell if I'm a spy or not.

Suddenly, someone bursts through the door, and I look up to see Acer with a big kitchen knife. I raise a brow.

"Hi, Acer," I say aloud, 'going back' to playing Plants Vs. Zombies[stupid app, being so damn fun to play].

He moves forward. "You killed my best friend," he snarls, and swings the blade at me. I barely have any time to dodge it as the blade grazes my arm. It hurts like hell, but adrenaline pushes it away a little.

"Killing me won't bring him back," I call aloud as he swings again.

"It serves justice at any rate," he replies.

I scramble across the bed, away from him. Subtly I lock my phone. "Do you think it's any harder for me?" I shake in mock-fear. "I watched him die, Acer!"

"No," he insists. "You killed him!" he steps forward. "Axlerod is too blinded to see how you planned all this."

"What? No!" I say indignantly. "I told you, I didn't kill Grem! He was my friend!"

He shakes his head. "Professor Z is right; you're not to be trusted."

"I'm just a girl, Acer!" I shot back, panic in my voice. "I can't do anything!"

"Oh, but the devastation Axlerod will feel when you're dead will make him learn his lesson not to trust anyone outside the circle!" he says, and tries chasing me around.

But I don't get far as I trip over the rug, falling to the floor with a thud, the wind in my lungs _whooshing_ out of me with an 'oof'. He then hovers over me, scrutinizing my face.

"You do know you're pretty, do you?" he whispers. "Too bad it's all going to be wasted."

"Milse!" I shriek, kicking Acer off me, and I scramble to the door. "Miles, help!"

"Oh no, you don't," Acer hisses at me as he takes hold of my wrists before I can reach the white panel.

I scream to the top of my lungs. "Miles, help!"

The door bursts open and I bow my head so Miles can have better aim as his fist rises over his shoulder. I can hear it connect to Acer;s jaw, and fell the release on my wrists. I fall the to the floor, and remember the cut across my arm. It's bleeding well, but Miles quickly wraps it up in whit cloth, i.e., the bedcover. I sit there, holding my bleeding arm out as he wraps strips of white cloth around my cut. My head whips around as a shadow blocks the light flooding through the door.

Professor Z is there behind me, and looks like he's wondering what happened before he frowns at the situation, or me. Knowing Miles is busy with my arm I smirk at Zündapp, and he gasps slightly. I quickly turn away to watch Miles continuously wrap my arm.

"Thank you," I murmur gently as I look at him.

"I'm just glad you're alright," he replies, voice low, as he holds my hands. He then kisses my forehead before helping me up.

"What about Acer?" I ask.

He frowns a little. "I don't want to kill him, but I don't want him lurking around with ways to kill you."

I bow my head and play on his conscience. "I'm sorry," I say quietly.

"Why?" he asks, totally bewildered.

"I've caused you so much trouble," I say. "First Grem's death, and now this." I sigh. "Maybe I am a burden."

"No you're not," Miles says firmly, his hand tilting my head up so I have to look at him. "Karen, I chose right when I told you to come with me. It doesn't matter if everyone else thinks I'm being stupid when I tell you I love you. I'm serious about this, Karen."

The look in his eyes lets me know he really is serious about loving me, about trusting me with his heart and his life. Not that I didn't mean for this to happen, but the love he's declared for me is overwhelming, and instead of calm I feel a kind of pleasure that excites me and makes me happy.

My eyes are shining but I don't' smile. Yet. "I know," I whisper. "I press closer to him, my fingers tightening on his other hand. "I love you too, no matter how much the odds are against os."

He smiles slightly before pressing his lips to mine in another sweet kiss. I whisper his name softly, and his arms, now around me, tighten as his lips tense. He pulls away, leaving me frustrated, and whispers 'I love you', his face lingering over mine.

"S-sir?" and unfamiliar voice calls shyly at the door, and I turn to see a crewman standing at the door. "We're at the docks."

"Crewman," Miles calls before he can leave, "can you help Acer here, if you please?"

The crewman nods, and tries to wake the unconscious Acer on the floor. Miles tells me to suit up, and I'm in my pants, shirt and jacket once more, watch on my wrist and phone in my pocket. We are then in a car and are being driven to the site of the meeting. Professor Zündapp and Acer will follow shortly. With my contacts I message Siddely with my coords-ah, coordinates-and send a homing beacon so he can follow via the GPS in his Mustang.

"You seem oddly focused, Karen," Miles says softly.

I glance at him as I finish, and chuckle slightly. "Just remembering," I say.

I note only now my cheeks are tingling as I take in the view before me. He's sitting back, nearly to the door, his ankle propped up on his other knee. His elbow rests on the door handle, his forefinger stroking his lower lip unconsciously as it has dropped slightly. His other hand is on his propped ankle. And best of all, his eyes are half-closed.

_God, help me now._

"Remembering what?" he prods.

"Erm," I stammer, tricking him into thinking I forgot, and quickly compose myself, "my friends," I say quickly.

"What about your friends?" he says.

"They…they used to dream about being in love," I say. "I don't really know if they've found someone already or not."

"And you didn't?"

I shake my head. "Didn't really think of it at the time."

He smiles, cocking an amused brow. I snuggle against him, and his arm comes around me so lovingly I shiver and nearly purr. He chuckles softly, and his face presses to my hair. I sigh smilingly.

I don't really know or even care how long we're like that, but I know my body kind of hurts as we get off.

We reach a hotel within a few hours. A bellhop helps us with Miles's stuff as we head for the reception. There I hear talk of a 'ball', and inquire details.

It is a celebration for all, although checked-in guests come first. It's a black tie occasion, so that means I have to wear an evening gown. It occurs in a few days.

On the way to the suite I ask him if we can go. No that I want him to take me, it's just that I can't pass up this opportunity to have some fun. He agrees as I give him my reason, and we plan to go shopping in the nearby malls the next day.

Once we get to the designated suite though, I can't help but say 'wow'.

Going on hotel vacations is very rare for me late in life. Especially these and in my teenage days. I mean, my dad is always at work; what other reason can top that? So, this evening, I explore, brushing my hands over linen, wood, plastic and more.

The room's theme is contemporary, with colors or rusty orange, natural wood brown and creams and off-whites. Wooden panels are either flat-out dark brown, or striped in various hues. The bathroom itself is…amazing. There are two glass showers(or whatever you call them, just that the panels and the door is _see-through glass_), two sinks, two bathtubs…and, well, there's probably two of everything except the complimentary toiletries, towels and bathrobes. The king-sized bed is white. There is no headboard because, well, the wooden panel on the wall _is_ the headboard. There's a kind of a sofa bed between the glass window and the bed. The glass window on the far end of the room shows you a beautiful, breathtaking view of the city. As usual, there's a seat with no backrest at the foot of the bed; I'm 29 and I still don't know what it's called. They have an LCD TV mounted on the wall across the bed, and they even have an iPod alarm clock at the bedside table!

I laugh, first tentatively, until I'm filling up with giddiness I'm bursting with childlike laughter, and I fall onto the bed, grinning. I look up at Miles, and he's staring at me like he's freaked out, but with a smile, of course. I sit up, and wait for him to ask his question.

"What's going on?" he asks.

I grin at him, kick off my docksides and pull up my legs. "It's just…" I stare around, still smiling. "I've never even really been in a hotel room in years," I say, and my grin fades as my hand brushes the cotton cover. I rest my chin on my knees, still disbelieving. My smile has faded then.

He strides over to me and sits down at my side. I look at him with arched brows as he scrutinizes me, until my disbelief and minor euphoria turns to embarrassment as I realize I acted kinda stupidly there. I slip my head between my legs.

"Whoa, hey, what's wrong?" he asks, suddenly alarmed.

"Don't stare at me like that," I squeak as my head pops into his view. I frown at his shirt instead of meeting his gaze. "It's…disconcerting."

Out of the corner of my eye I see him smile, and I look up. His hand covers my cheek, and I press closer, turning my head so I can bury my nose into his palm. He laughs a little before holding me close.

"Sorry," he says. "But I love you."

"Yeah," I murmur as I press my face to his neck. "I love you too."


	8. Chapter 8

_As for the new poll, which I believe you guys have seen already(if not, please visit my profile!), it is only a question so I can gauge who you guys want Karen to be. It doesn't change whatever I want the plot to be. :)_

_And I am so biased between Siddeley and Miles. Dx_

_I do not own __**Angel **__by __**Casting Crowns**__. To __**Speedystar95**__, wherever you are, thanks for the song; your vid inspired me so much I have to credit you, too! xD Oh, and his/her vids on YouTube are awesome; go check 'em out if you haven't yet!_

* * *

_**Chapter Eight**_

The next day, we head for Alabang Town Center. We ask the concierge where we could find formal wear. The department store just across the Activity Center(the name being self-explanatory) could have some things there for us. The rest is in stores scattered throughout the premises.

Oh, are you asking how Miles can go around, unrecognized? It seems that Allinol wasn't really big here in the Philippines, so there's really no reason for Miles to hide. And besides, probably nobody even cares.

We find the men's formal wear first in the department store, in the ground floor. He stands by me with his hands in his pockets as I search for a nice shirt for him. The attendants help us out, and we try various colors of button-ups. I sit in front of the door where he's changing, rather and oddly excited to see him in a bit of formal wear. He pops in and out of the dressing room, and when he doesn't bother fixing his collar or his sleeves or shirttails I just do so for him.

At some point, I note some of the other girls in the store are trying to contain themselves when they see Miles in various colors. They can't help coming back to see him in more. I roll my eyes as I remember my friends.

We agree on a cool blue number because it sort of accentuated his eyes. I leave it up to him to pick out a black jacket and a tie if he wants to.

I can't find a dress in the racks there. Period. Not even in the small dress shop up in the second floor. The girl in the reception yesterday told us there's a second mall nearby, so we decide to check that out, too. At least we came in early; we have so much time left in our hands we just go and drive over. But still, I have had no luck. I'm unsatisfied by 'off-the-rack' or pre-made dresses. So, in a random dressing room, I conjure my own dress with my holograph.

Didja know my contacts, watch and phone are kind of linked, like the Internet? So with just a thought the dress can change.

I'm standing in a deep blue number that matched not only my father's eyes, but also the base color of his car. The neckline is low-lying, semi-sweetheart with a kind of 'hemming' being slightly ruffled. The sleeves are merely off-shoulder. The silhouette or the skirt is a dropped kind, falling just to my shin. I decide I can add some gloves, and go with cream elbow gloves. I can find shoes and jewelry tomorrow.

"Still nothing?" Miles calls, and I can hear his yawn from over the door.

"Nope," I say, and save the template for later. I leave the dressing room, acting exasperated.

Why I didn't show the dress is very girl-like of me, isn't it? To let it be a surprise? If that's what you're thinking, then yes, I wanted it to be a surprise.

I sigh as I hand the dresses to the attendant. "But it's in a few days," he says.

I smirk at him. "A few days, Miles," I repeat. "I still have tomorrow and the day after."

He concedes. "Alright."

We return to Bellevue, the hotel we're staying at, and head for the restaurant on the second floor after dropping off our stuff.

The next day grants me luck. I have found some dream shoes: strappy for support, yet subtle for its design. Color: gold-ish. I find a salon where I can have my hair and make-up done. I make an appointment before we leave.

Miles finds a few shops and stalls that sell many and various native foods. We sample a few. Many are sweet and savory. We pick out a few favorites to take home.

We've sampled so much we don't have dinner. Instead he calls for a complimentary bottle of champagne and we just talk as we lie on the bed.

I've previously messaged Siddeley, as usual, of our plans, and invite him to come along. He agrees, and I am reminded with an 'I love you' of how I can't have Miles for many reasons. I push it away at any rate.

The next night, as we return, I find-well, he finds-a box on the bed. I open the holographic box and reveal my blue gown.

"I had it made," I say. "My friend who lives here owes me."

He eyes me suspiciously. "I thought you didn't have any friends."

"he left me to migrate here," I reply. "So he can't really help me."

he nods and examines the dress. "It's beautiful; I wonder how it can work on you," he murmurs, gaze flicking to mine.

I grin. "I dunno; it's a gift, I guess. I haven't really seen it myself."

He nods before pulling me close.

* * *

The next night is the night of the 'ball', located in the Grand Ballroom. Miles is waiting in the room for me(as usual? Hehe.)

"Are you done yet?" he asks anxiously.

I grin. "Just wait," I reply as I gave myself one last once-over. I step out of the bathroom in my new heels, my bundle of used clothes in my hands. When I look up at him he's staring.

I can't help but stare, too. He looks sharp in a full suit, which means not only is he in a shirt, coat and pants, but he's got a tie and waistcoat, too.

"Erm," he starts, looking away as he steps forward. I toss my clothes onto the bed. "You…you look, er…," he coughs slightly, "…beautiful."

No one else in my life except maybe my family and girl-friends have ever called or told me that. Not even Siddeley. I flush.

I can see him blushing, too, as he stands there. I grip my clutch bag a little tighter.

_Say something, dumbs!_ my mind pushes.

"You look handsome, do you know that?" I blurt, and as he looks up I slap my hand over my mouth.

He grins, and I shrug, looking away in embarrassment. It's an awkward moment, but his hands take mine. I smile into his blue eyes shyly, and he just presses his lips to my forehead before gesturing to the door.

"Shall we?"

* * *

There's drinks. There's food. Modern and vintage music alike ring out from the sound system. Most of the audience is in their late teens or twenties, either single or coupled. There's a dance floor in the middle of the large Grand lines of buffet tables are to the side, and hold various dishes. A bar hosts several bottles of juts about anything, and will serve anything so long as you're of age.

After dinner, people are invited to dance, be it ballroom or whatever. Miles invites me to the dance floor, and he leads me around.

When we rest for a moment, he goes off for champagne while I stand to watch the rest of the couples dancing or other groups talking. And then, Siddeley approaches.

"You look pretty," he says.

My heart wrenches as he means it. "Thanks," I reply, and my finger ghosts over his khaki lapel. I chuckle. "nice."

He glances down. "Oh, I just plucked it out," he says, careful not to say 'out of my mind'.

I grin. "Me too."

"But compared to yours, well…." He trails off.

I shrug, smiling. "sorry," I say, and we laugh.

Siddeley's in a black and khaki theme, the khaki being his pants and his jacket. His shirt is black. He wears no tie. I can say it's fitting, and that he looks great. My contacts can 'see' the energy coming off his 'clothes'.

"Any news yet?" he asks.

"Oh, just go on and have fun for a while, Siddeley," I say, nudging him.

"But it's no fun without you," he pouts.

"Siddeley, I have Miles to contend with," I say. I look at him and see he's frustrated. "Hey, I'm sorry," I tell him immediately.

He shakes his head. "it;s not that."

I stare at him a little longer. His eyes are narrowed and he's frowning.

"Are you jealous?" I blurt.

"What? No!" he exclaims.

_Looks like it._ "Then what is it?" I ask.

"I'm just…worried about the mission," he says. "I'm worried…about you."

I look at him, smiling. "Are you serious?" I ask.

He stares at me with wild eyes. "Your'e staying with him, Karen," he growls. "In _one_ room, no less."

"It's the only way, Siddeley," I reason.

"Not, it's not," he snarls. "There are other ways; you're either too blind or all you want is the attention!" He storms away. I glare after him. Why can't he see he's acting like a kid?

"Who was that?" Miles asks.

I don't look at him. "Siddeley," I reply.

"New friend?"

"Yeah," I say. I'm sure Miles needs another reason, and I don't want to abort the mission, or betray my best friend, no matter what happened. "Told him I had you, and that I wasn't planning on replacing you anytime soon." I hope _he_ heard that; I can't believe Siddeley forced my contacts' mic open!

"How soon?" he murmurs.

I finally glance at Miles. He's holding two tall glasses of champagne, and his blue eyes are inviting and inquiring.

I blink. "I don't know." I reach for a glass. "But I do know it isn't any time in months, probably and let alone years."

He grins, and touches his glass to mine in a toast.

Minutes later, sweet music plays, and couples try scrambling to the dance floor. Some are exhausted and sit down. miles grabs my glass to set it down before he leads me on the floor.

Notes from the grand piano played. A slow and soft intro changes to a happy tune that makes you want to smile and twirl.

It's amazing to dance with someone. It's even more so with someone you love. Put that and Miles together and it should be like heaven, or somewhere along that line.

People clear the center to watch us instead. I'm so amazed by how well Miles can lead and dance that I don't care. I can't really determine the sequence, but he alternates steps, twirling and moving away without releasing my hand. In the end I twirl twice before 'landing' in his arms. There's applause as I try stopping the room from spinning.

"You alright?" he says.

I hadn't realized I'm panting slightly. "Yeah," I breath, and laugh a little. "Just a little…dizzy."

He chuckles as the music morphs to a slow love song. People are on the dance floor once again, and Miles and I are just swaying. Instead of being acutely aware of how close we are in public I listen instead to the song lyrics.

_"It was a day  
__Just like any other day  
__I was a boy  
__Just like every other boy_

_But when the girl  
__Unlike any I had seen  
__It's like she stepped out of a dream  
__And into my world_

_Could have been the summer wind  
__Playing with her hair  
__As the sun danced in her eyes  
__We were standing there_

_She smiled I forgot my name  
__'Cause all I was thinking."_

"You alright?" Miles murmurs again, catching my attention.

"Oh?" I say, snapping back to reality. "Yeah." I smiled into his eyes, and his gaze softened. "I'm fine," I reassure him, and his lips stretch in a small smile.

When I focused on the song again, I realize I've missed the chorus.

_"You're the proof that the Father answers prayers  
__'Cause somehow someway  
__You and I are standing here_

_With the sacred promise  
__And a ring that says it all  
__I've just begun to fall  
__From the deepest part of me I say I do."_

His arms wound around my waist slowly, catching my attention. I can define each step we take, each centimeter his arms move(well, maybe not to the last detail, really). I look up to him questioningly, but he just shakes his head. his gaze holds mine, and I can't help being fully aware of the chorus and the feeling in his eyes.

_"Maybe I'm crazy but I'm praying  
__That an angel will love me  
__An angel will love me_

_Maybe I'm a fool but I'm still falling  
__Asking heaven above me  
__For an angel to love me  
__The rest of my life."_

As an interlude ensues, he asks me, unblinking, "Will you be my angel?"

I can feel tears in my eyes as I speak. "Yes," I whisper. "I know I will."

With that, he pressed his lips to mine. My lids slide shut at that contact, and my chest swelled in love an joy. It was brief, soft and sweet, but nonetheless made my day.

His face hovered over mine, his breath warm, his eyes gazing into mine.

Someone brushed against me, and as a reflex I turned my head. There, Siddeley was staring sternly at me, a holographic partner in his arms. I rolled my eyes, and he glared. I looked away.

"What's his problem?" Miles asked.

I shook my head. "I don't know," I growled before looking up at him again. "Let's go home; I'm exhausted."


	9. Chapter 9

_Alright, who voted for Miles? O_o xD_

_Wow, __**Mere**__, I didn't know that could happen. xD Well, I'm sure you weren't expecting something like this in this next chapter. *evill grin*_

_**WARNING. This chapter may cause me to get flamed by parents.**_

…_let's just say I need more practice, alright? :/_

_**EDIT(05/24): **Alright, I know I put this story down, just because things were going awry, and well, maybe because I was aware of the reviews. At any rate, I'm not going to listen to them now; this story will continue as planned. :)  
_

* * *

_**Chapter Nine**_

I flop down onto the bed, giggling a little. It must have been the champagne, although all I had was about two glasses. At any rate, I was happy.

I reach for my shoes as he sits beside me. My feet hurt, and I'm exhausted. When I can kick them off, I walk, barefoot, into the bathroom so I can get the make-up off my face. As I wash my face, the water feels so amazing I want to just get in and soak. But I don't. I can't. I'm exhausted. So I strip my dress and just get in the shower. I sigh aloud in pleasure as the warm water hits my skin. When I get out, fresh and clean, I note I don't have any clothes with me, except my blue dress.

Shit.

I try not to slip on the tiles as I made my way to the door, clutching a white towel to my front. Dripping, I peer out to see Miles stretched out on the bed, still in his suit. He looks at me, brows raised. I grin apologetically, maybe even shyly.

"Wha-at?" he says, smiling back.

"Can I borrow a shirt of yours…and if possible, some shorts?"

He laughs aloud, throwing his head back onto the white pillows.

"It's not funny!" I squeak at him, although I'm not necessarily annoyed or anything.

He stands, still smiling, and reaches into his stuff before handing me the two pieces of clothing. he laughs as I take them, and I give him a good-natured slap on the arm as I shut the door. I close the blinds so I can change freely, as well as brush my hair and wash out my underwear(yes, I don't have any underwear, remember? Unless you count those I wear.). I leave the bath, still blot-drying my hair.

He's seated on the orange seat at the foot of the bed, gazing up at the plasma TV. I watch him quietly as I dry my hair. When I'm tired of standing by the door I hang up the towel and sit by him, clutching his arm. He turns his head to me, and I look up at him. He smiles, and I do so, too. So I sit there, not paying any attention to anything in particular, staring at a point on the floor, until he shuts off the television. I look up to see what's wrong.

He stares at me, just like that, and I have to look away because I'm embarrassed.

"Whoa, hey, what's wrong?" he asks worriedly.

"Don't stare at me like that," I squeak, flushing.

"Hey," he says, catching my attention. Just as his fingertips touch my chin I look up at him. "I love you. Looking at you is one of the things I like to do these days."

I smile slightly. "'Like'?" I repeat.

"Well, maybe like is a little too weak," he muses, pursing his lips. "Maybe _love_ is a better word."

I grin, and as he does so back, he presses his lips to mine.

These past few days I haven't really thought of trying to get on with the mission(which I remembered just now) or to get on with things, or to do something drastic. All that was on my mind was the party, and spending time with Miles. That was it. Anything past kissing was out of the question. And I think that's exactly what he wants now.

His kisses are soft, slow and sweet, but they have the tang of passion. It makes me want a little more, and all I can do is follow as he pulls me closer. I'm forced to straddle his lap as the kiss heightens. My arms are around his neck, fingers tangled in his hair. His arms come lazily around my waist. Breaths turn to gasps, and everything else is forgotten and the immediate air sparks with lust and love.

His hold on me disappears, but he continuously presses his face against mine as I feel his knuckles against my belly. Instantly I know what he's doing, and embrace him even more enthusiastically. His jacket is off in a few moments, and his hold is around me again. I can hear small moans, and I barely even realize it's in my own voice. But I know I whisper his name though, and something snaps me back to reality. I wrench my lips off of his, and I look at him. His face is flushed, his pupils dilated. His mouth is open as he gasps for air. His black hair is ruffled. He's looking at me incredulously.

"Karen," he breathes, desperation clear in his voice. I chuckle slightly as I take in his figure.

You could say I've always dreamed of men in shirts with a waistcoat. I do believe I felt squeaky and happy then, but it isn't compared to the amazement I'm feeling as I stare at Miles. Because he looks so damn sexy it's taking my breath away.

I can't stop gawking at him, my lower lip popping open a little as I do so. My finger traces from his double-layered shoulder down to the vest's buttons. My hand meets his, and I look up to him. His gaze has normalized, but I don't think his heart feels the same. The same hand reaches for his face, brushing to the back of his head, and he presses immediately as he puts two and two together.

I'm caught off-guard at the magnitude of his want. A low moan escapes his lips, and he's undoing his vest buttons. But I shove away as the vest is off. He's startled as he stares at me, but all I wanted was a distraction, because I wanted to undo his shirt buttons myself. I press my face to his, but I don't necessarily kiss him. He growls at me as I pull away every time he tries to kiss me. I smile evilly as I slow the movement of my fingers, trying to enjoy the way his frown and the sound of his voice depicts utter need. I laugh as I undo the second to the last button, and press my lips to his again as I force the blue dress shirt off his shoulders. The sound resonating in his throat is louder as my fingers press to his shoulders.

"Karen," he says aloud, just enough for his voice to pitch, but not enough to hurt my ear. This is followed by a moan, and I bend down so I can kiss his collarbone. This one earns me a louder call.

He leans on the bed, palms to the covers, granting me access to the rest of his front. I can feel his heartbeat under my touch, the quick and irritating rise and fall of his well-defined chest, the vibration of his throat as I brush my lips against his skin. At the call of my name my lips fly to his, and we fall to the bed. I permit myself a small moan as I feel his warmth past the thin cotton of my-his-shirt. He rolls us over, and gives me one last press of his lips before he pushes off the bed.

"Miles-" I start, dazed, and I see the lights in the room dim. I get the idea, and move to the pillows. I start unbuttoning my shirt, but he's on me, his hands taking over mine as he kneels over lips are urgent against mine. As the last fastener comes loose, his own hands tickle my sensitive spots, and it's his turn to enjoy listening to my voice, as it is my turn to be serviced.

I may be left gasping, tingling and warm, but I know we're far from done yet. In face, I have the gut feeling we haven't even started.

I don't wait for him. I can't. So I take it upon myself to undo his belt, butting and zipper. The unmistakable clink of metal, tap of release and the opening zip rings in my ears. My fingertips weave past his underwear, until I grip something I've only seen in science class. He's hard and warm, and that alone excites me.

"Karen!" he shouts. He's gazing into my deep blue eyes, almost like he's searching, but his focus is into space, and I know he's feeling more than searching, really. he throws his head upward and alls my name, and a groan follows. I smirk at him at that as my hand moves faster around him. At one last moan I release him, and he looks at me.

"What about me?" I whimper.

"Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about you," he murmurs lovingly. His tone makes my head whirl.

"Oh, Miles," I call softly as I feel his hand between my thighs. My fingers stroke his cheek lightly as I wait patiently. I whimper softly as he tickles my clit, but as he slides a first digit into me, it's my turn to call out in pleasure.

Suddenly, everything else-the mission, Siddeley, Kaitlyn, my father, CHROME, my family-just detaches themselves from me, like helium balloons on strings, each one with a name, taking flight after the string has been cut. _Snip, snip, snip._ All of it, going in every spasm of pleasure that surges through my nerves, in every call of his name, and in every plea for him not to stop. Then, all of it is gone, except for one concept that's tying me here: Miles Axlerod.

It's odd, did you know, that when the full name is said aloud, the criminal comes to mind. But when it's the first name that I mention, all I can think about is the man I've come to love. It's odd, knowing the essence of a word, like a degree of intensity when comparing analogies with that strategy.

I hiss in frustration as he draws his hand out. He laughs as he presses his lips to mine.

I turn us over so he's the one lying on the pillows, because not only can I see he's straining, I can feel it, too, in the slight vibrations on his arms. And it's not even cold. So that leaves us with a change of plan. I kiss his nose before I lower myself to his legs. My eyes widen in amazement because I've never seen one before.

Before CHROME, the males used to talk often about it. As curious as I was I asked what it was about. not that they literally showed me, really, but at the look-up of the word _pornography_ I shied away from it. And yes, I've been that innocent.

My fingertip traces his length down to his base, and he trembles slightly, his head resting on the pillows. I chuckle softly. It's like that for a moment as I continuously watch him, my gaze flicking from and to every other movement he makes.

"Karen, what-oh." I look up to see him looking at me. He's staring at me gently, like he understands. He blinks, then shakes his head, smiling slightly, and relaxes again. I mentally shrug and return to the task at hand.

My fingers close around him, and I start licking his tip slowly like a child would to ice cream on a cone. He gasps sharply; just what I wanted to hear. Just a few more, I decided, but you could say I missed doing that movement I do it so long he hisses gently at me to go on. Bit by bit, I take more of him in my maw, and sweet, soft moans leave his lips. These sounds add to the haze, and I'm, once again, dizzy with pleasure.

I change tactics. My hand moves with my head once I'm sure I can get most of him in. My movements are quick yet gentle, and as I look up, his mouth has popped open. His fingers weave into my brown hair, but no pressure is applied to my head.

I may not be scientific, but I can easily put two and two together. So, if my mouth can cause this much damage, I wonder what my throat can do. So, with one last suck I force his tip further down. At that, not only does he tense, his back off the pillows, but he shouts my name at the top of his lungs. Reflexively I gag and stop breathing as he chokes on lack of air, and we gasp as I release him. I rests back onto the cushions, and I move so I can see his face, straddling his lower stomach.

He's panting out of the ecstasy, and his pupils are heavily dilated as he looks at me wearily. I sigh as I trace the line of his jaw to his neck, down to his broad shoulders to the defined contours of his chest, my eyes following my nail. I look up to his blue gaze again. It's either he's just watching to he's waiting. At any rate, my arms wind around his neck as I press my lips to his.

I don't know where his hands go, but his wrist brushes my thigh, and shifting ensues before I feel an unknown entity brush at a spot between my legs. I gasp and look at him. It effectively breaks our contact as I stare at him with wide eyes. He stares back, gaze softening after a moment.

"If you didn't want this, I can stop," he murmurs.

There's shock as the statement registers. The words hit me so strongly my vision blurs in a mix of hurt, lust and love. Hurt because he can't go on. The lust is pretty much the words in themselves. Love because he cares. Nobody ever cared for Karen Angelina Redline.

I stare at him for a moment longer, right into his blue gaze. "Why would I want you to stop?" I whispered back. I didn't know what to say because it was awkward already. I want this, but he's only making me think twice as every second ticks by. And since he's not even sure I bend down and kiss his neck. This he takes as a green light.

I close my eyes as I feel his tip slide in. Slowly he advances, the pain increases bit by bit. It's not so much anymore, but I bet he can feel my reaction as I tense.

"Karen?" he murmurs.

"I'll be fine," I breathed. "Just…hold on."

As the pain subsided, I was very much acutely aware of how he felt inside me. I can't necessarily say it was the best thing ever, because as I relaxed and kissed his neck, he started thrusting into me.

If you think fingering was good, well, you're missing out.

I didn't want to breathe. I couldn't see. I couldn't think. There was just pleasure. And all that was in the form of either shivering or the shameless calls I made.

He didn't keep any of it a secret, either. But to me, it was all in the background, although mildly I could register my name between gasps. As the heat built and tensions escalated, we became quieter and quieter, and I didn't know where it would lead or what it would lead to. But I had the gut feeling there was something waiting for me at the end of the line. And I didn't even have to wait as this realization hit.

I came with a shriek of his name, and my body tensed in ways I didn't imagine existed. It felt so good, so unbelievably and inexplicably good there was nothing else in the world that could make me feel this.

The feeling subsided, and he was still working. All I could do was rest atop him, listen to the sound of his voice and feel. It may sound nerdy, but I thought I could figure out the relationship of how weaker his voice sounded as it pitched in a higher tone every time. With one last push he tensed, back arching against the bed, his hold around me tightening, and I thought I could feel his warm release. I kissed his neck again as it subsided.

It was his turn to slump against the bed. I kissed his neck continuously, noting how exhausted he must be. His hand turned to lead my lips to his, and we shared a slow, loving kiss.

There really were no words right now. It was awkward, it was wonderful. I lifted my face from his slightly so I could see. My thumb stroked his cheek. His hand retreated from my face to comb through my hair.

"I love you," I blurted out suddenly, only because it was weird not to say anything.

He smiled. "I love you, too." He kissed me once, and I laid my head on his shoulder to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**__**_Alright, the late chapter ten. :/ xD_

_The story behind this is because I was so frustrated with the reviews(yes, I take reviews seriously) because everyone doesn't like Miles, whatever. So, at any rate, I have revised my outline, so here is chapter ten! :)_

* * *

_**Chapter Ten**_

My eyes flutter open as my dream breaks, and I'm staring into flesh. Disoriented, I raise my head, wincing as the sunlight hits my eyes. My head is heavy and whirling, and it takes me a few moments for my brain to get going.

I try getting on my knees, and I note something slide out of me. I don't give a damn, but the back of my mind makes it linger.

The next thing I notice is that I'm wearing nothing, but I'm under bedsheets. I lean on one hand as I pat my chest and belly with my other. I don't go to sleep stark naked, so I'm even more confused.

I glance down to the bed though, and see a living nightmare. I jerk off the bed as a reflex, and it's so fast that, not only do I startle him, but I also startle myself.

Miles Axlerod himself is naked and underneath me.

"Wait, what?" he calls, sitting up in confusion as I hide my front under the sheets.

"What are you doing here?" I shriek. "Wait, no, what am I doing here?" I correct myself.

He stares at me, and the instant I see his blue eyes, everything comes rushing back. I bury my face in my hands. "Crap," I moan into them.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, and I feel his arms around me.

"Craaaap," I just repeat. "I'm so stupid."

He holds me closer. "It doesn't matter; I won't leave you to raise-"

I look at him. "What are you talking about?"

He stares back with wide eyes. "What are _you _talking about?"

"I was talking about me forgetting about you," I say, and I sigh, looking away. "But you do have a point." I realize that just now and bury my face in my hands again. "My sister will kill me."

"But isn't your sister dead?" he asks.

I look up. "No she isn't."

He stares at me harder. "I thought you said your family is dead."

I frown at him, then I remember everything else. I nod. "Right. Sorry." I press my face to his neck. "I miss Kaitlyn." I say that for real.

He holds me close. "That's alright," he murmurs before kissing my hair.

I lift my head to his, and soon I'm lost again.

The next time I take note of things is when I'm lying on my side, tracing little patterns on his chest with my fingertip. Bored, my whole hand presses to his shoulder and I lift my face to kiss his jaw. He bends his own head and smiles lovingly at me. I do so back before pecking his lips once more and pushing off him so I can dress. Only, what do I dress myself in? Oh yeah, I almost forgot that idea, too: I have a holograph. Stupid me being stupid again.

I get into the bath so I can change and freshen up. I leave in a white shirt and black pants. My hair is tied up, and I let my bangs sweep across my forehead, the longer ends tucked behind my ear.

I see him buttoning up his shirtfront, and I flush at the view before me.

He eyes me though. "Karen, what's that?" he asks.

I eye my outfit. "Oh, this?" _Shit._ I forgot I have to explain this to Miles. "Er…holograph," I say.

"Where'd you get it?" he asks, moving forward.

"Oh, my dad gave it to me," I replied. That was partly true; dad requested I get what I wanted for my birthday, and whatever I wanted on that day is what I'll have for the next few years. Well, I got my phone, watch and contacts. That was it. "He had it customized." I showed him my watch, and I made sure I never showed what weapons stored in there.

"May I see?" he asks, and I hand him the watch. That's when I realize that thing has the mark of CHROME behind it.

_I'm in deep shit._

He examines it, but doesn't touch the controls. I hold my breath, praying he doesn't see the CHROME symbol under it. He doesn't, and I sigh in relief as he returns it to me.

"Nice pearl face," he says, and I smile.

"Yeah, well," I murmured, shrugging, and he kissed my hair.

We head down to breakfast, and that's when he remembers he has an appointment. He finds Zündapp with a few other men, and Miles drags me to his side as he sits on the couch.

"Sorry I'm late," he says, huffing slightly.

Someone raises his brows at me. My contacts reveal him to be J. Curby Gremlin.

"Yes, we can see that," he muses, sipping his mug of coffee.

Miles snorts slightly as I order two extra mugs of brewed coffee. As it settles, I lean back, enjoying the drink, and mildly follow the conversation, when really, I'm scanning who these are.

The other three men are revealed to be Tubbs Pacer, Vladimir Trunkov, and Victor Hugo, all previously part of the scheme to crash Allinol. All I could do is watch. After that, I just inform Siddeley about a few things, tell him I'll meet him in his room, and all I can do is stare around, waiting for the moment to strike, like a python to a rat, until Miles stands up.

"Miles," I call, taking his wrist. He looks down at me with eyes of blue fire. "Calm down." he tries reasoning with me frustratedly. "They won't listen if your'e mad," I point out. "Calm down."

He just huffs exasperatedly before he sits down. I side closer to him, hoping my being there would help him keep his cool, and his arm comes around me. My free hand holds his, and he grips mine gently but tightly. The meeting ends tensely, and we retreat to the hotel room. But before I cross the threshold, I remember.

"Can I check out the souvenir shop?" I ask him. "I mean, I just wanted to see."

He grins. "Go ahead," he says. "I'll just fix a few things here."

I smile, and after a quick kiss the door shuts. I head away to a room, knock three times softly and irregularly on the door, my ear to the wood, and the door opens. Someone grabs my arm, pulling me inside, and the door slams shut.

"What-" I manage before someone presses their lips to mine. My eyes are wide in surprise, and I catch familiar brown eyes. I sway in Siddeley's arms as the kiss clouds my senses, and we fall to the bed with me under him.

My fingers are in his hair. His hold on me is tight and needy. I gasp his name as he moves down to my neck, and I squeal in ecstasy as he turns us over. I giggle as I gaze into his smiling eyes, and I peck his nose lightly. He grins ever more.

"I missed you," he says, tracing a line from my temple to my jaw.

I chuckled. "I missed you too," I murmured.

He chuckled a reply before sitting up. "So, what do we do now?"

"I'll go for Acer today," I say. "About time I got to work."

He smirks, and sits up. I sit at the foot of the bed as I get armed and ready. A handgun for me, as well as a small blade, much like a dagger. It's kind of foldable, so I stick it in my pocket. The gun I stick in the 'garter' of my pants.

"Anything else?" I asked.

"Yes, there is one other thing," he says, and faces me. he takes my hands in his and stares me right in the eye without a smile. "You promised you won't get knocked up."

I swallow. "You-"

"Yeah," he says. "You forgot your contacts."

I bow my head. "I just-"

"Look, I'll admit I'm frustrated with you," he says. "I won't deny I want your company more than I even should. I won't even deny I'll want you someday for myself. But for you to do something like that with a criminal…." His voice trailed away, and he frowned, looking down, and swallowed. "I don't want to influence your decision, but if you have to choose, choose wisely. Because if you pick his side, I won't be able to help you anymore."

"Siddeley-"

"No, I mean it's fine, but if at the end of this mission you're still in favor of Axlerod, then I can't be with you anymore. I…I don't think I'll be able to cope with the disappointment." He looked up at me, and I could see he was holding back tears.

That's the first time I ever saw a man cry.

I wanted to hold Siddeley, to comfort him, but what can I do? I mean, it was awkward enough to know he witnessed _it_, but to let me with my decision is, as I thought, one of the stupidest and most loving thing he's ever said and done. Loving because he's admitted to my power of deciding who I want to be with. Stupid because he won't fight.

I pressed my palm to his cheek. My thumb stroked where a glistening gem streaked down his skin, and he turned his head to press his nose to my palm. I felt so sad as his eyes shut, letting other gems flow. Unable to stand what love he's showing me I lean in, and press my lips to his softly. It may only be a second before I pull away, but I know something more than that has passed between us.


End file.
